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September 2, 2008

YOYO COME OVER TO MY LAND

I no longer live in the place that I lived before you guys. That means I moved to a new one. Like most humans, I don't enjoy the process of moving. I have the strength of an athletic 12 year old and boy, do I hate boxes! I don't really hate boxes. I engineered my move so that I wouldn't have any big stuff to haul because as I mentioned before, I'm a girl-armed wiener who hates doing things. My load consisted mostly of comics, clothes, CDs and DVDs and I had my mom's Ford Focus brand auto-car to drive everything over to my new place which I have dubbed, "Bruce Wayne's other house in Canada (Toronto)". Bed etc. was coming from my girlfriend because her stuff is better than mine. This was going to be the easiset move ever right audience? It wasn't that bad but here's what happened sort of:

Sunday night I decided to move a couple of loads following my cousin's wedding. I was tired yet determined, just like a NASA spacenaut, so with the help of my brother we headed over to Bruce Wayne's other house in Canada (Toronto). The first piece of shit that flew in my face was when I realized that the keys that were cut for me might as well have been cut by David Crosby riding a donkey in a hurricane. That means that they weren't very good and I had a lot of trouble opening the door. It got to the point where they didn't work at all. But I managed to get a lot done and was fairly confident going into day 2.

DAY 2 - The Day the Earth Stood There

I woke up at a reasonable hour to pick up my girlfriend/new roomate so she could meet her dad at the our new place because he had her stuff. Get it? It doesn't matter guy. Just keep eating that orange and don't forget to eat the peel! I helped Liv's dad move some big heavy things into the apartment, because Liv can't lift anything except pillows and aluminum stuff (light metal right?). We had to move this gigantic oak unit up some stairs and I almost died. I swore like my old man and was kind of embarassed. By then I was kind of mad because my brilliant moving plan didn't include lifting things, although I really didn't mind helping out because that's what a Jedi would do. I tried to go back to my old house to get the last of my stuff but thanks to the Labour Day parade, a drive that would've taken five minutes took forty. I shit my pants on the way and a cop stopped me for speeding. When I rolled down the window he said "Smells like shitty garbage in here son. Are you a dumb garbage man or did you just shit your pants? Oh yeah I see the shit, you shit your pants. Here's a ticket."

Hahahahah I wish. I don't have any good stories like that

It did actually take 40 minutes to get home and when I got there I couldn't find anything to put my clothes in and I realized we left our old house in a terrible state for the nice new dudes to move in. When I got back to the new place with my undies scattered all over the car my shitty keys didn't work so I had to wait for Liv to get back. I helped her move more stuff and her and her dad helped me with my stuff, including my scattered undies. Then I drove a microwave to my brother just like in the movies! That's about it I guess. I wanted to go swimming all day but I never did which means I've gone all summer without swimming in a damn pool. Help me!!!

In retrospect, it wasn't that bad but I'm a lot like Napoleon - if a plan doesn't follow through, I get mad. I love wine gums!!!

2 comments:

Anonymous
said...

you should post pics of your *new place*. why not?? i also have a shitty key to my new place. it takes me approximately 17 minutes of frustration to get in the door. maybe if you and i switched keys, it would improve matters. your key would probably open my door more swiftly than my current key. key key key.-carapauls

About a guy

I'm Glenn Macaulay, writer/comedian in Toronto, the jewel of Lake Ontario. If you arrived via Google Image search, welcome, and check out glennmacaulay.com for further self-promotion.
This thing gets updated every time something scary happens to me.